Wednesday, July 27, 2011


My husband has been home the last several days, so if we need to go somewhere he offers to drive and we gladly accept. Here is the thing, as much as I have complained, pitched a down right fit about driving, now I miss walking. I realize how much I have missed the nice cool air and exercise. I do not feel as good in a car. There is no accomplishment to riding to Walmart, but huge rewards to walking the four miles. I always drink tons of water on those day and eat healthier. Recently, while he is home, I may drink one glass of water and a full container of cookies. I see which scenario is better and rather than complain I need to Thank God for taking my driving ability away and allowing me to be healthy. 

Thank you God for letting me take the slow route in life and really enjoying it. Thank you for finding a way for my children and I to be healthy and fit.

Monday, July 25, 2011

Missing you

I cried today, not for me-- but for you. While you are hiding, I am weeping. I miss you so much; The you I know, we know, deep down you really know.  I pray that you will make it through this troubled time and come out swinging for the next trial. Know always that I loved you just the way you were.

Saturday, July 23, 2011

2 Choices

"I don't drive."

1) I went out too many times, drove drunk and got my license taken away. I could go into details (made up) about having a great time, running into a tree or almost hitting a small child. I could even name drinks and the rude cops that made me cry. 

or I could tell the truth

2) I could tell you that I have epilepsy and the state thinks I should not drive. I could tell you that sometimes I do cry when my boys and I want so bad to be able to go and just cannot get there. I then have to listen to your pity. I hear you say, your there for me or your sorry to hear that. Questions go on and on about how do I get here and there and do this and that. 

Sometimes it is easier for you think I am a drunk. I did this to myself.

Epilepsy Groups

I belong to a group online for epilepsy and a man wrote on there that he rode twenty miles on his bike. I think about him all the time and wonder if it started out as him riding because he had to get milk from the grocery store. Does he ride for enjoyment? Did his body just get used to riding, one day he was going one mile and the next 20? Am I going to go as far as him? I am needing milk now and can go eight miles but years from now will I be walking 26 miles in a marathon because I am used to it? To the man that goes the distance on his bike keep on, at least we are healthy, or as healthy as we can be.


I decided to put my best foot forward and sign up to do a 5K for epilepsy. There is one coming up in September and I am going to be ready. Training begins. Eat better, Run Faster, Buy new Tennis shoes, Stay Hydrated. We will do it. My 5 year old son wants to do it with me. I am so proud of him. He will probably be the first to the finish line.
One of the greatest things about my condition is my healthy children. They can run circles around most children because if they want to go somewhere, they grab their tennis shoes. They eat cake, and cookies, then run it off so they can get a library book. I am a proud mommy.
Good Luck to me.

Blubbering Idiot

I never though a simple question like what are your hobbies could turn me stupid. I went out with a couple ladies the other night and one of them turned to me and asked, "So what are your hobbies?" I looked at her with a blank stare and she returned with,"What do you like to do?" I realized then how stupid I must look so I need to answer something. Truth is I have no idea. I get so excited when someone says, "Do you want to go...." that I always say yes. It could be hiking, shopping, or riding to the dump to help them carry garbage, I love it. I get out of the house in a car.  Does walking because I have to consist of a hobby? I admit I love to walk and walked before I lost my license but the thrill is gone when you do it because of need not want. I have decided to look deep this week into things that I really enjoy doing.

Hours later:
A hobby that I would add is moving furniture. I will move all the furniture in all my house at least once a month. I have thought about several different reasons, one of which is control. Moving a bed from here to there is something I can control. I cannot control whether I have a seizure or not and apparently neither can Doctors.  I cannot control whether you say you are coming to get me and never show up or show up hours later. I cannot control life but I can control location of my chair and table, pictures and decor. I need to control something and I get a sense of joy with that. I feel strong and powerful and everyone needs to feel strong in something they do.
It could also could be that my father was in the military and for several years we moved every couple years. I had constant change in my life. Nothing ever seemed to be the same. New friends, new home, new placement of furniture. I got used to it and moving a table from here to there comforts me. Again we all need comfort. Comfort food, comfortable clothes. We search for it and find it where ever we can.

Monday, July 11, 2011

Keep Staring

I see you staring at me as you pass by in your decked out, leather seat, GMC Yukon. I bet you have air conditioning in that truck too. Is it even on? Do you see the sweat pouring down my chest and by boys red cheeks? Yeah, we ran out of water hours ago and my husband has us on a budget. No stopping at the store for drinks and ice cream for us.
Don’t worry we don’t need a ride, not like you would ever ask. I just tie Big Lots bags on the stroller for fun.
I bet you think I’m one of those many individuals that are suffering right now with the economy. I bet you think I shop at Big Lots because that is all I can afford. I bet you think I’ve lost my job and I’m going to lose my house soon, but no.
The strangest thing is I wish I was.  The economy will eventually turn around; everyone will have employment again and places to live. Maybe not the same job and house, different paychecks and mortgages but they will have something.
I will still be walking, and you will still be staring.

School Days

“Mrs. Thomas, we just wanted to call and let you know that Brady has gotten injured on the playground,” before the school director could finish her sentence I hung up and started getting my two year old dressed and tennis shoes on.  In Charleston, SC the temperature must have been at least 100 degrees but it did not matter, my son needed me and I was bound and determined to be there.
His pre-school was conveniently only a mile away but in this heat it felt like twenty. I can barely breathe. As much as I want to sprint up there, I can’t.  I just have to walk as fast as I can and pray the whole way that he is okay and knows I am on my way. I had no time to grab water or sunscreen for that matter.
“Please God let Brady be okay. Please let somebody see the stress on my face and pick me up and take me to my son faster. Keep me from having a seizure in this heat with exhaustion and my current stress level.  Amen.”
Of course no one stops. They all think I am walking for my health. I wish I could wear a sign. I am almost there I can see his school and my anxiety level drops from level 10 to 2. Thank you.
I go into Brady’s classroom and just hold him. He has a cut down his left eye. Some little boy pushed him into the fence but Brady is okay. That is all I care about. Let’s just walk home, slowly, we are not in a race-- anymore.


“Now what the hell am I going to do?” asking myself, as I pace the library parking lot back and forth, while period blood is steadily dripping down my leg. I’ve walked two miles up hill to the library pushing a stroller, carrying a twenty pound book bag on my back to return our books and now this. Of course I did not bring myself a change of clothes. Isn’t it bad enough that I have to carry snacks and drinks for the kids, medicine for myself, an umbrella in case it rains, a wallet, books, and movies to return, a notebook filled with information because my mind won’t remember it, cell phone, and on and on and on.
I know that if I allow my nerves to get the best of me I will have a seizure, so I have to try and remain calm, relaxed, and figure this out. Walking back two miles is not an option; I won’t make it without blood being everywhere. It is already soaked through all my clothes and I don’t want it on my tennis shoes too. I don’t live in the city so there is no taxi.
Cars begin to pull up and a realistic person would never hitch a ride. Let’s be honest, in today’s world hitching a ride should never be an option. Although I think of myself as a pretty realistic person I am also not in the typical situation I have to. It must be nice to have that luxury to just hop in your car and drive back home. It must be nice to never have to make the kind of decisions that may or may not put your children in jeopardy.
A woman walked out of her Subaru station wagon, mid-fifties, short brown hair, compassionate smile, and I asked her if she could take us all home. I had no choice but to trust that she was a good driver since I had no car seats. I had no choice but to trust she was honest and good. Luckily for the sake of my children and I she was.
We asked her to drive us two miles home and then back to the library, she was happy to help. Just for convenience I left my son’s bicycle and stroller at the library rather than loading it into her car trusting again that it would not get stolen without locks. Moments later we returned safely from a stranger’s Subaru to our bike and stroller just as we left them.

No Joking Aloud

Another trip to the hospital, I am tired, cranky and hungry and there is no telling when a seizure is going to happen. You would think as much as I go to the doctor that I love it. You would think it is my favorite place to be. Some people like to sit at coffee shops, some bars or gyms for me you would assume the hospital. This is only my fourth EEG this year, all of which have been sleep and food deprived. I love the lack of the substantial ingredients for life. Pile it on. I love to have cords constantly connected to my head and chest. And those fancy bandanas that they always let me keep, I love those too.
I cannot wait until they start scrubbing my head with that god awful paste. The smell is overwhelming but don’t worry I did not need to smell anyway. That nose God gave me was just for looks. Kevin, the electron euro-diagnostic Technologist, decides this is the perfect time to start joking and picking on me. My husband laughs. Bad idea.
I lay there for a moment, boiling inside, do they not realize now is not the time? Obviously, they don’t because they continue and I pop.  I can only sit there quiet for so long before I am yelling at both of them. Now, I am the bitch. Paul, my husband, as supportive as he is, just doesn’t understand. I told him I was tired and he fires back with, “I get tired too and I don’t act like that.” He’s right he doesn’t so that is not a good excuse. Just try one time sleep and food deprivation, someone scrubbing harsh chemicals on your head  and making jokes in your honor, then continuous flashing lights directly in your face and the tech making you hyperventilate. If you do not have an attitude I will give you a Trophy for “World’s calmest Person.” Until then leave me alone.
I am wheeled back to the room soon after and the rest is forgotten. I had a grand mal seizure and forgot the remaining part of the day. The only thing I can say is the pain on my tongue lasted for weeks. That must have been a good one.